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| Cat on a hot new roof: Pixel checks it over! |
Writers remember everything… especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he’ll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels. A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar.
Art consists of the persistence of memory.
— Stephen King: Misery
I have written on here before about the NHS at its worst (for me). But on Saturday I experienced it at its very best. Before I tell you how, I need to take a few steps back, and tell you the why.
Last Tuesday, after six weeks of seemingly continuous rain, my kitchen and bathroom roof was replaced (very loudly); and I finally removed the bucket and pan from under the spot where all the water had collected in the roof void and made its way through. Then, when the scaffolding was dismantled on Wednesday afternoon, I went and sat outside with my cat Pixel amongst the cement dust and general mess, and reflected on how we’d muddled our way through from the morning I slept in; Storm Floris found the weaknesses in the old roof; and I woke up to an inch of water soaked into the kitchen floormats and collected in poor Pixel’s food-bowls, as well as splashed up the walls and kitchen door (where the weak spot was). It could have been worse, I suppose. But it felt like a disaster… — an expensive disaster.
